Broken Mirror
by Sytel
Summary: Why did Trelane need a mirror to use his powers? Or did he? When his game with the gallant Captain Kirk goes startlingly awry, the young Squire makes an important step toward growing up. Oneshot


Hi all. Don't worry, I'm not abandoning Acquiescence : ) This just popped into my head last night, and I figured it was high time Trelane got a little fanfic attention, especially since he's one of my favorite characters. Tallyho!

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"If it's fighting that you want, you may have it!"

A lady's dainty white glove was not quite the traditional gauntlet, but when Kirk slapped him in the face with it, Trelane was quick to recognize the significance of the gesture. He jumped gleefully, overjoyed that things were working out so well. "Are you challenging me to a duel?!"

"If you have the courage," Kirk snarled.

Courage was, in fact, one of the things Trelane most desired. He had never known what it was like to face death or physical harm; his people had been beyond such things for what amounted to an eternity. And perhaps because it was so alien to him, Trelane was fascinated by how mortals could face danger without fear-- or ignore fear if they felt it.

He liked to think that if he had been born a mortal, he would, indeed, have courage.

"This is better than I planned!" Trelane said, surveying the drawing room for an appropriate open space. "I shall not shirk an affair of honor!"

He momentarily considered the appropriate weapon for such a duel. Swords? No... pistols. He formed the image clearly in his mind and projected it to his Instrument.

Trelane had little patience with the Instrument. It would be so much more elegant to work his will by the power of thought alone, as the adults did. He disliked having to stay close to it, restricting him to this small area on a planet that was supposed to be all his. And the presence of a large, awkward machine in his otherwise perfectly recreated castle offended his sense of style.

Still, the Instrument was necessary to boost his powers until he was ready to stand on his own, and it responded adequately to his mental command. He strutted over to the mantelpiece and took down the pistol case as if it had always been there.

"A matched set," Trelane said as he opened the case, showing Kirk his handiwork. "Just like the pair that slew your heroic Alexander Hamilton. And, Captain..." He flashed a grin at Kirk, reveling in the sense of risk, however illusory and transient. "I never miss."

As Kirk reached into the case and chose a pistol, Trelane could see a gleam of sweat on his brow. He was worried, anxious-- afraid! And yet he did not back down. This, Trelane knew, was courage. He had always wanted to meet it in person. "Oh, how fascinating!" he said with unconcealed joy. "I'm party to an actual human duel!"

Kirk, holding his chosen pistol as if it had always belonged in his hand, stepped back an appropriate number of paces. Trelane did likewise. They faced each other across the drawing room, not as a mortal and a higher being, but as two men.

"Ready?" Kirk called out.

"Quite ready, sir," Trelane answered with a dapper grin, acting out the scenario he'd dreamed of for hundreds of Earth's years. "We shall test each other's courage, and then..." And then what? He couldn't kill Kirk, the first and finest man of courage he'd ever met; the games would simply have to continue, somehow. "And then we shall see," he finished.

"Let's get on with it," Kirk said impatiently.

Trelane would have preferred, of course, to savor the moment, but this Kirk seemed all but incapable of appreciating his fine entertainments. Delightfully savage of him, of course-- but what attracted Trelane to humans was not only their savagery, which could easily be found in predator species across the galaxy, but the way they combined savagery with refinement.

But Trelane also knew that mortals were impatient by nature; Kirk would not allow this moment to be drawn out indefinitely. "As you will, sir," he said courteously. "Honor will be served, eh?" He saw Kirk raise his pistol-- and an idea struck him, an inspiration for how to make this scene even more exciting. "Oh, wait! As the one challenged, I claim the first shot."

Kirk frowned angrily. "We shoot together."

"It's my game," Trelane reminded him, "and my rules. But if you need to be persuaded..." He pointed his pistol at Spock, the ill-mannered and disappointingly disruptive Vulcan officer.

The threat worked. Kirk was still unhappy, but he gave in. "All right."

Spock began to protest again, but Trelane would have none of it. He raised his pistol, and fired-- into the ceiling.

"And now, Captain-- how do you say it?-- my fate is in your hands."

Filled with the wonder and excitement that came with genuinely not knowing what would come next, Trelane smiled at the human captain, awaiting his shot. He knew, of course, that he could not truly be killed or injured, but for a moment, he could pretend. He wasn't exactly sure what he would do if Kirk did shoot him-- pretend to be wounded? Award Kirk the point? Simply savor the moment and move on to the next game in good time?-- but then, that was the delight of it. Having to improvise.

And then Kirk fired. And Trelane realized that mortals could improvise, too.

There was the sound of breaking glass, and then frying machinery-- Trelane's elaborate parlor mirror and what lay behind it. No sooner did Trelane realize that Kirk had, impossibly, destroyed his Instrument than the energy of the room died out. The lights, the hearthfire, the delicately crafted ambience. Trelane could feel the stormy atmosphere of Gothos begin to encroach upon the edges of his domain.

"You've ruined everything!" Trelane cried helplessly, collapsing in shock at his harpsichord. Even it no longer worked, emitting a cacophony of off-key notes at his touch.

Kirk's French crewmate, De Salle, began to manipulate his communicator device. "Subspace interference is clearing," he reported.

"Try to contact the ship," Kirk ordered.

He'd planned it, Trelane realized. The human-- or had it been that insufferable Spock creature?-- had realized the secret of his Instrument, and had contrived a scheme to take advantage of his youthful weakness through trickery and deceit. It was a low, dishonorable trick... and yet, it showed a keen military mind at work. "The remarkable treachery of this species," Trelane said to himself.

Kirk moved closer. No longer a model of courage overcoming fear, he was now the gloating victor. "Go on, Trelane," he said darkly. "Look at it. It's over. Your power is blanked out. You're finished."

Trelane shrank back, flinching from Kirk's words. These people were adults-- adult mortals, true, but still adults. They had weapons and a ship from a developmental period he'd never studied. They had ways of knowing things they shouldn't.

Was he actually feeling true fear? It was a novel sensation, but Trelane was not currently disposed to appreciate it.

"You've earned my wrath," he growled, his long-studied familiarity with human emotional displays helping him cover his fear. He hoped it was enough. "Go back. Go back to your ship, all of you, and prepare. You're all dead men-- you especially, Captain."

With that, he left the room, doing away with his assumed physical form. Kirk couldn't follow him beyond material existence, could he?

Apparently he couldn't. Or Trelane's latest round of threats, empty as they were, had served their purpose. "Everyone, we're getting out of here, and now!" Kirk shouted. He opened his communicator. "This is the captain! Commence beaming up, maximum speed!"

And before Trelane could do anything, not that there was anything he could do, the humans vanished. Back to their ship.

Trelane looked around hopelessly. He was alone, powerless, in a darkened castle on an empty planet, with enemies who might be regrouping even now and preparing to do who-knew-what to him. Intellectually, he knew that mortals shouldn't be able to harm him, but he couldn't quite believe that. And it had seemed like such a delightful idea to bring them here for a visit...

If this was fear, Trelane couldn't find the courage to face it. It wasn't fair. He cried, as much as a being of pure thought with no physical form could cry, the waves of his emotions shaking his unstable planet and threatening to bring down his beloved manor.

And yet.

Somewhere in Trelane's mind, something clicked. The eons of intellectual evolution his people had advanced through were not for naught. Even through his despair, he realized something, something that attracted his curiosity and might even prove useful.

The tremors. The planet was quaking because of him. The Instrument was broken, but Trelane's mind was moving the world.

That fact, and the worry of having his castle collapse around him, gave Trelane the strength to stop crying. Having retreated into himself, he now extended himself again, looking at the wreckage of the Instrument. There was nothing metaphysical or hypernatural about the pistols he'd created; they were exactly what they appeared to be, copies of mortal weaponry. They couldn't possibly have done real damage to a device that held the power his people wielded. Whatever the shot had done was probably minor; knocking something loose, perhaps. Trelane might be able to fix it, even if the workings of the Instrument were a mystery to him.

And it was mysterious indeed. As his awareness wandered through the Instrument's workings, Trelane realized that it was extremely crude; apart from a few electrical wires and lights, there was nothing in it that extended above the base physical level. And even on the physical level, it didn't seem to do much. Wires, wheels and tubes connected to each other haphazardly, but there was nothing in the Instrument that seemed capable of receiving, converting, or producing energy in any external way. How could _this_ piece of junk create planets, control matter and energy, or see through time and space?

Trelane extricated himself from the machinery, turning to look at the pieces of his mirror, the main component of the Instrument. Maybe the power was stored in it somehow. It still worked as a mirror, at least; looking into the fragments, Trelane could see himself reflected as a faint green glow in the darkness of the room.

A mirror. Maybe that was all it had ever been.

And for that matter, Trelane remembered something else-- another click of realization, a small fact that could mean a great deal. After Kirk and the others had been pulled away the first time, he'd gone up to their ship to pay a visit and retrieve them. There had been no Instrument on the_ Enterprise;_ he hadn't even thought about it. He'd just-- _done_ what he wanted to do.

Trelane lifted one of the sharp triangular pieces, finding it strange to manipulate matter with thought directly. He looked into the glass, experimentally willing it to turn the lights back on.

Instantly, the room was filled with warm light once more.

It all became clear to Trelane. The purpose of the Instrument had been to ease him into using his powers more and more by himself. He was old enough, strong enough, to not need one anymore-- this latest one had just been for his own confidence, because he was accustomed to using it. But all those times when he'd looked into the mirror and called upon its power, he'd been addressing his own reflection.

With a laugh of triumph, Trelane reached out and took hold of his entire planet, driving it through space as easily as thinking, chasing after the fleeing _Enterprise_ in a cosmic foxhunt.

His own Instrumentality was unbreakable.


End file.
